Isabella turned her head, and he was there. Her heart gave a single leap of joy, then began to pound with alarm. Don DeMarco was watching her intently. His amber eyes blazed at her with a smoldering mixture of desire and possessiveness. He was in the shadows, so he seemed indistinct, yet his stare was vivid and brilliant, almost glowing at her.
Very slowly she closed the book she was reading and set it on the table. “I am very happy to see you arrived safely, Signor DeMarco,” she greeted him.
“How is it I find you lurking about the palazzo when you have been instructed to stay in your room at night?” he countered. His tone was a low blend of sensuous and rough. His voice seemed to seep into her pores and light a fire in her blood.
“I do not think I would use the word instructed,” Isabella countered daringly. “It was most certainly an order.”
“Which you completely ignored.” His blazing eyes didn’t so much as blink. “You chose to skulk instead.”
“‘Lurking,’ signore? ‘Skulking’? I fear your imagination is out of control. I am merely reading a book, Don DeMarco, not stealing your treasures.”
His mouth twitched, drawing her attention to his perfectly sculpted lips. “Sarina had orders. It is necessary to know that the servants obey without question.”
Isabella lifted her chin and stared straight back at him, arching one eyebrow as if daring him to chastise her. “Have no fears, signore. Your housekeeper did her duty to you and carried out her orders, securely locking me in.”
For the first time he stirred there in the shadows, and the movement drew attention to his earlier stillness. Muscles rippled, fluid and sinewy, reminding her of the predatory beasts he held dominion over. He had been motionless; now he exuded tremendous power, tremendous danger. “You are locked in your room for your safety, signorina, as you well know.” His voice was quite low, a lash of temper held in check.
“I am locked in my room for your convenience,” Isabella countered calmly. She folded her hands neatly in her lap to keep him from seeing her fingers twisting together in agitation. If they were to spar, she was not going to run simply because he was the most compelling and intriguing—the most frightening—man she had ever met. “Surely you would not have me believe you are so careless as to allow huge beasts to run free in your home. You are an intelligent man. That would be disastrous for several reasons. I suspect locking me in my room is more to keep me out of mischief than for my personal protection against marauding lions.”
“And you saw no lions this night?” he asked softly, his voice a caress.
Isabella blushed, her lashes sweeping down to veil her expression. She had the feeling he knew she had seen a lion. “None from which I needed protection, signore.”
His stare didn’t waver, rather became even more focused. The color of his eyes deepened, seeming to burst into flames. “Perhaps you need protection from me.” His voice was velvet, purring menace.
Silence seemed to fill the library. She could hear the wind tugging at the windows as if trying to get in. She forced herself to meet that steady gaze defiantly. That she might need protection from the don was both shocking and strangely exhilarating.
“How did you manage to escape from your room, Isabella?”
The way he said her name, wrapping it up in a soft caress, sent liquid fire crawling through her body. He was lethal. Wickedly, sinfully lethal. His voice suggested he knew many things she had only heard about. Intimate things his hot gaze demanded she share with him. She could barely manage to breathe when she looked into those eyes, when she saw his tormented face. When she saw the intensity of his desire.
Isabella moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, the only gesture betraying her nerves. “I certainly am not about to confess anything to you. Suffice it to say, I learned the fine arts one needs for moving about freely when my father used to confine me in my quarters. He often forbade me to go riding.”
He smiled, a flash of white teeth, fine laugh lines crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I imagine he often forbade you to do many things.”
“Yes, he did,” Isabella admitted, trying not to melt right on the spot at his mere smile. There was something about him that tugged at her heart. If she wasn’t careful, he could steal her soul and leave her a hollow shell. She leaned forward deliberately, defiantly, locking her gaze with his. “He forbade me all sorts of things, he locked me up continually, and it never did him a bit of good. I went where I wanted to go and did as I pleased. I have never, at any time, been a good or dutiful girl.”
The table separated them, polished marble that gleamed a beautiful rose color under the flickering light of the tapers. Nicolai glided closer, a tall, powerful figure looming over her so that the massive table seemed suddenly inconsequential. Deliberately he placed both palms flat on the surface and leaned his heavily muscled frame toward her so that their faces were mere inches apart.
“Is that a warning, Signorina Vernaducci?” His voice was nearly liquid, it was so soft, purring menace and blatant temptation.
Isabella refused to back down. Her pulse was racing, her heart pounding. He was the most handsome and imposing man she had ever seen. Up close he was mesmerizing, and just looking at him robbed her of air. She could see the terrible scars that had ravaged his left cheek, yet she could also see the absolute perfection of his masculine body, of his handsome face. Isabella struggled to drag air into her lungs, struggled not to lift her hand and cradle his scars in her palm. “Yes, Don DeMarco. I feel it is only fair to tell you the truth about me.”
“Your intention, then, is to defy me?”
Sparring with him would have been much easier if he hadn’t been staring at her mouth with such evident fascination. “I offered a lifetime of loyal servitude in return for the rescue of mio fratello. I even agreed to become your wife, and your answer was to ruthlessly order me to leave the valley in the middle of a snowstorm,” she accused. “I don’t think I owe you fidelity.”
“You haven’t forgiven me yet,” he observed thoughtfully. “I thought we had dispensed with your unfavorable opinion of me.”
He was so close, she wanted to touch his tempting mouth. His hair was an altogether different enticement, but she was determined to match him stare for stare. She managed her haughtiest tone. “I see nothing in my behavior that would lead you to believe that. I was merely polite, as good breeding commands.”
“Really?” His voice was low, one eyebrow shooting up. He grinned at her then. A self-assured, know-it-all, wicked smile. It changed his face completely, chasing away the shadows and the deep lines. He looked young and handsome and sensually appealing. Her breath caught in her lungs, and her heart stopped beating. She could only stare helplessly at him.
Nicolai simply reached out, almost in slow motion, his palm curling slowly around the nape of her neck. His hand was large and hot against her skin, wrapping around the slender column so that his fingers lay against her vulnerable throat.
Fire raced through her body at the touch of his lips on hers. Every muscle clenched tightly. Heat blossomed low and sinfully in her stomach and spread to meet the flames racing through her bloodstream. His lips moved against hers, a slow teasing of senses, awakening her to a world of sensuality. His teeth tugged at her lower lip, an enticement she couldn’t resist. She opened her mouth to him. Opened her heart to him. He swept in, masculine, possessive, a fire and a whirlwind consuming her. Her knees actually weakened, and her fingers grasped the marble table for anchor while the storm raged through her. Liquid heat spread, an aching need, curling and throbbing within her.
Isabella dragged herself away from him, horrified at her own behavior, shocked that she wanted to fling herself into his arms. She was very aware they were alone in a room, far from anyone else. The door was closed, and the tapers gave off meager light. She was wearing only a thin gown and dressing robe. Her hair was hanging down her back in a wild and wanton fashion. She wanted him with a desperation she had never known before.
Struggling to control her breathing, Isabella lowered her lashes to veil the expression in her eyes. She looked away from him, unable to meet the intensity of the stark desire burning in his amber gaze. She glanced down at the huge tome with its elaborate scripts, then down at the polished marble—anywhere to avoid his piercing eyes. Her gaze fell on the back of his hand, where he was leaning his palm on the table. Only it was a huge paw. The biggest paw she had ever seen. Intrigued, Isabella bent closer to inspect the five retractable, hooklike claws. The fur was dark and soft. Without conscious thought she stroked a caress over the fur, burying her fingers in the richness. The texture seemed real and more beautiful than she had imagined. Amazed, she looked up to meet Nicolai’s strangely colored eyes. At once she realized she was pinning his hand to the table, still immersed in her strange illusion, her fingers caressing his skin.
Color crept up her neck and flooded her face. She snatched her hand away and cradled it against her, holding the warmth of his skin to her heart. “I’m sorry, Signor DeMarco, I don’t know what got into me.” First she had allowed him to be familiar with her, and then she had touched him intimately. What must he think of her?
“If you were again to agree to become my bride, Isabella,” Nicolai said softly, his voice whispering along her skin like a purr, “then there would be no need to be embarrassed over the showing of affection.”
She lifted her chin, arching a dark eyebrow at him. “Show of affection? I beg to differ with you, signore. It was merely curiosity; it overcomes me at the most inopportune times. A small failing I do my utmost to master.”
A smile tugged at the hard edges of his mouth. “Curiosity, was it? I hope that I satisfied you, but I would be most willing to continue the experiment should you agree to become my wife.”
“I appreciate your sacrifice,” Isabella said, her eyes sparkling with laughter. “As for agreeing to be your wife, I have done so once and was treated abominably.” She made an attempt at looking pathetic. “As I am a female, weak and rather nervous…”
“Ah, the fainting type?” Nicolai supplied helpfully.
“Yes,” she lied. “I’m not certain my poor nerves could withstand the strain of such a husband.”
He rubbed his shadowed jaw thoughtfully. “I must confess I didn’t consider your…nerves. Still, I think we may get around the problem if we’re careful.”
He looked so young and handsome, so completely tantalizing, Isabella felt a curious melting sensation in the region of her heart. He tempted her in so many ways. She felt rather like a moth drawn to the flames. “Is there a specific number of times you intend to drive me from the palazzo? I think I’ll need the answer to that question before I give consideration to your marriage proposal.”
Nicolai shoved a hand carelessly through his hair. Unexpectedly, he winced and quickly dropped his arm to his side. “I believe the one time was enough, Isabella. I am certain it will not happen again.”
“You’re hurt.” She hurried around the table and caught his arm. “Let me see.”
Nicolai went completely still at the touch of her fingers. “This is what you want, Isabella? It is possible you will learn things about me you might not wish to know.”
“I already know things about you I don’t wish to know.” Her eyes smiled at him, soft and generous if a little shy.
Nicolai reached out, framed her face gently, his thumbs sliding over her skin with exquisite tenderness. “You have not begun to know me, Isabella. I do not deserve to have you look upon me with such an expression in your beautiful eyes. I am dragging you into a world of danger where you will never know friend from enemy. I despise myself for being so selfish and cowardly that I cannot give you up.”
“Well, of course you don’t deserve me, Signor DeMarco, as I am such a fine catch with my wealth of lands and treasures, my sick brother, and the reputation of my name to bring to our marriage. Now stop stalling, and let me see your wounds. You are being a bambino—most unseemly when you are trying to impress me.”
“Is it working?” His voice whispered over her skin. He leaned closer so that she smelled a wild, masculine scent, and the warmth of his body enveloped her. She found herself falling into the depths of his strange eyes, mesmerized and dizzy with such an unexpected longing that she froze, pressing a hand to her somersaulting stomach.
He bent to her, his gaze holding her captive, slowly moving closer. At the first touch of his lips, she closed her eyes, savoring the touch of him, the taste of him. His mouth took possession of hers, and the world seemed to rock, shift, and move until it fell away and she was burning inside and out.
His arms circled her waist and drew her to him, into the shelter of his body, gently, carefully, but tightly, so that she was pressed against him. She could feel his every muscle imprinted on her body. She went boneless, pliant, and melted into him, a part of him, catching fire so that she hungered for him.
Isabella felt his breath hitch as she burrowed closer. Immediately she pulled away, glaring up at him. “Let me see.” Abruptly she was all business, a Vernaducci, well used to giving orders and having them obeyed. “I know you’re injured, and I’m not taking no for an answer. I’m very stubborn.”
“It is not difficult to believe that, Isabella,” he said wryly. “But it is nothing, a mere scratch. I was careless when I should have been attentive.”
Isabella slowly pulled his tunic away from his side to expose his bare skin. She gasped aloud. “You’ve been attacked by the lions.” She touched his skin with trembling fingertips. “I don’t know why I believed you would be safe from them. Everyone in the palazzo acts as if you are perfectly safe from the beasts.”
“I am safe from the lions.” His voice was gruff as he turned away, dragging his tunic back over the lacerations.
“Let me tend the wounds. It doesn’t look as if you are safe. I thought of you as I wandered through the halls, believing that if you were really safe from the lions, then I would be safe, too. I just had to have faith. Sarina left me a potion that numbs, already made up.” She took his hand, entwining her fingers with his. “Come with me.”
“It is not at all proper,” he warned, a hint of his boyish grin touching his mouth. “My reputation would be destroyed completely.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “I didn’t realize you worried about such things. But you are correct, of course. The world might think ill of you. We can’t have them whispering rumors and gossiping. Still, I must tend the lacerations, so I guess I have no choice but to agree to marry you, so your reputation remains safe.”
“I thank you for the sacrifice,” Nicolai said solemnly, but his eyes laughed at her teasing.
“Tremendous sacrifice,” she corrected. “And it doesn’t mean I have in any way forgiven your absurd and very rude conduct.”
Despite the lightness of her tone, Nicolai heard the underlying note of hurt. He tightened his fingers around hers, holding her still beside him. “I had thought to protect you, Isabella, not reject you. La mia famiglia has a history of turning on their loved ones. I had no wish to take a chance with your life, cara, so I sent you away from me. I am dangerous, far more dangerous than you could possibly know.” He brought her hand to the warmth of his lips, his touch soft on her skin. “You should be upset with me for allowing the lions to hold you here.”
“The lions?” she echoed. “You believe they were deliberately forcing me to stay within your valley?” The warmth of his breath against her skin made her shiver with helpless need.
Nicolai kept her hand pressed against his lips, as if he couldn’t bear to lose contact. “I know that they were. I changed my mind almost immediately once you were out of my sight. They knew. They always know. I’m not noble and courageous. If I were, you would be safe and far away from this place.” There was a trace of bitterness in his voice. He rubbed her hand along his shadowed jaw, a small caress, closing his eyes for a moment and savoring the feel and scent of her.
Isabella was silent for a moment, turning his words over in her mind. Nicolai was serious. He feared for her life. Feared that in some way he might be responsible for harming her. “What history of turning on loved ones, Don DeMarco?” Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she tasted fear in her mouth.
The words fell into a vacuum of silence. She stood very close to him, feeling the heat of his body. His thumb stroked a caress over the pulse beating so frantically in her wrist. He moved, his posture protective, towering over her, sheltering her against the echo of danger vibrating in the air. The night seemed to wrap them up, enveloping them in a shroud of darkness.
“Hasn’t anyone yet regaled you with tales of how I received the scars on my face? I thought they would all leap at the chance to tell you.” A strange rumble was emanating from his throat, somewhere between a purr and a growl.
Isabella tilted her head to look up at him. In the flickering light from the burning tapers, she could see shadows across the left side of his face, hiding the jagged lines etched deeply into his skin. She reached up and gently laid her hand over the scars, her palm comforting. “I don’t think you realize how loyal your people are to you. No one has repeated gossip, signore, nor do I think they would do so. If you wish to tell me how this happened, please do, but don’t feel it’s necessary.”
His hand covered hers, pressing her palm more tightly to him. His long lashes, the only feminine thing about him, veiled the sorrow in his burning eyes. “Why do you have to be so beautiful? So good?” There was a wealth of despair in his voice.
She felt the pain in his heart as if it were her own, and she ached to hold him, to ease the heavy burdens she had no hope of understanding. Without conscious thought, she leaned her body into his, her soft, full breasts pressing against his chest.
He groaned—she heard it quite clearly—his body tightening.
Nicolai experienced a heavy, aching need that crawled through his bloodstream and invaded every cell, every muscle. His arms slipped around Isabella and hauled her closer still, until there was only the thin barrier of their clothing separating them. Still, it wasn’t close enough. His fingers tangled in her long hair, dragging her head back so he could take possession of her lush, inviting mouth. Enormously strong, he crushed her to him, trying to crawl inside the haven of her indomitable spirit. Wanting to lose himself in the perfection of her soft body.
Fire raced through him to her and back again, burning so hot, so fast, the flames were out of control. His mouth was hot with hunger, with need, with a raging desire almost beyond his comprehension. It took him so fast, so ferociously, he was unprepared for the primal lust blossoming deep within him, bursting into a conflagration as the taste and scent of her swamped his senses.
Isabella recognized the wildness rising in him, the terrible hunger and need, as his kiss deepened in masculine domination, taking rather than coaxing her untutored mouth to respond. He swept her away with him into a world of pure sensuality. She went with him willingly, wanting to feel his body hard and hot against hers. Wanting the enormous strength of his arms wrapped tightly around her. She merged with him, heat to heat, her mouth moving against his. She could feel the heavy thickness of him pressed against her, and it excited rather than alarmed her. She reveled as his fist tightened in her hair.
Unexpectedly, his ring scratched her neck, a sharp sting that drew her out of the silken web of erotic passion. Isabella gave a soft cry and lifted her head, staring up into his blazing eyes. She touched her neck, and her fingers came away smeared with a thin ribbon of red.
Nicolai snarled and leapt away from her, a single bound that took him deep within the shadows. His gaze was wild, turbulent, his eyes gleaming eerily like those of a beast. With his wild hair flowing around him, and his impressive size, he gave the appearance of the lions that roamed his lands.
“This is perilous, Isabella.” His voice was gruff. A growl rumbled deep within his throat, making him sound untamed, dangerous. “You should not be here.”
“There is no need to worry, signore.” Isabella sounded amused at his trepidation. “I was not the most ladylike in my youth, and mio fratello, Lucca, taught me to render a man incapable of harming me. While it is true I would not want you writhing on the ground in pain, I would certainly defend my honor earnestly.”
There was a silence while her heart beat out a rapid rhythm. Then a soft, muffled sound began to build in volume. Laughter. Warm, contagious, real. Nicolai shook his head, rather startled at the sound of his own laughter. He couldn’t remember a time, even in his youth, when he had laughed. She didn’t understand. Thank the Madonna she didn’t understand. She stood there in front of him, her young, beautiful face innocent and without guile. Her eyes were wide and staring at him with trust, with the beginnings of affection, with everything he could ever want. She was offering him the world and the joys of paradise. He was offering her death and the fires of hell.
His laughter died away, and he blinked back something wet that was obscuring his vision. “Your brother taught you a manner of rendering a man harmless?” He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, unobtrusively swiping his eyes to clear them of moisture. “I have not heard of this, a small creature such as yourself able to manage such a great feat. I would like this procedure explained to me in great detail.”
Isabella was mesmerized by him, totally charmed. His laughter found its way deep into her heart, lodged there, and made a home. Faint color stole up her neck and tinged her face. “I am certain you know what I mean, signore.”
“I think it is time you call me Nicolai. If you are considering reducing me to a writhing, painful heap on the floor, it’s best that we’re friends. I was merely hoping for a demonstration of this procedure. I wish you to teach my entire holding such a useful thing, so that all young women travel with protection and alleviate the worries of their fathers.”
Her lashes fluttered, and Isabella twisted her fingers together. “You are jesting with me, Don DeMarco.”
“Certainly not, cara. I am quite excited about this new form of protection that will allow a small woman such as yourself to cause a man of my size and strength to fall helplessly to the floor. Your brother, Lucca, taught you such a useful and invaluable trick? Tell me, Isabella, did he learn such a thing from a master swordsman?”
“You are impossible. I implore you to behave before I’m forced to call Sarina and have her deliver you a good clout on the ear.” She tried to sound stern, but her eyes were dancing, and her lips curved enticingly.
He folded his arms across his chest, his gaze fixed on the temptation of her soft mouth. “Sarina believes you safely locked in your room, a well-bred young lady betrothed to her don.”
Isabella managed a haughty glare when she really wanted to laugh. “You can just fix those horrible gashes in your side all by yourself. I’m going to my bedchamber and will do my utmost to forget this discourse.”
“I have been accused of being a gentleman, Isabella, and I must insist on escorting you back to your bedchamber.” He leaned close so that his breath was warm against her ear. “I cannot have you skulking about looking for hidden treasures.”
Isabella thought herself a safe distance from him, yet in no time he had managed to glide quite close. He was so silent it was frightening at times. Without looking at him, she carefully replaced the tome on the shelf where she had found it. “If you’re too frightened to wander the halls alone, I will consent to accompany you.” She was proud of that haughty note. She felt it justifiable under the circumstances. His teasing was too appealing. She couldn’t look at him without melting. She was in danger of fast becoming one of the very women she despised, clinging to a man and gazing at him in abject adoration. It was too humiliating to be borne.
Nicolai placed one hand on the small of her back as they walked together, side by side, out of the room. She was acutely aware of the heat of his hand so close to her skin. The rippling of his muscles beneath his shirt. The silence of his footfall. His height and the width of his shoulders. Mostly she was aware of his palm burning its way through her dressing robe, branding her.
She could feel the weight of his stare, and she kept her head bent, a small mutiny when he seemed to be taking over her life so quickly.
“I sent word that your brother must be released into my care,” he said suddenly.
Isabella’s head went up, and her gaze met his immediately. “You did? Thank the good Madonna. I have been so afraid for him. Don Rivellio would like nothing more than to see him dead. Grazie, Signor DeMarco, grazie.”
“Nicolai,” he corrected softly. “Say my name, Isabella.”
She certainly owed him that much. Her eyes were shining at him; she couldn’t help it. She wanted to throw her arms around him and kiss him again. “Nicolai, grazie. For mio fratello’s life.”
“You do not owe me anything, cara,” he replied gruffly, but he couldn’t drag his gaze from the fascination of her perfect mouth. “Rivellio is a powerful enemy and always greedy for more property. I’m surprised he didn’t try to secure your lands by offering marriage to you.”
Isabella looked straight ahead at the vaulted archways faintly lit by one or two tapers in sconces on the wall. “He did offer,” she admitted, and once more she began walking in the direction of her room. “More than once. I refused him immediately. He was very angry. He didn’t show it, but I could see it.”
“Isabella.” He said her name into the night. Whispered it. His voice was gentle, even tender. “You are not responsible for what happened to your brother. Lucca chose to join a secret rebellion, and he was foolish enough to get caught. Rivellio used every means possible to attain the lands he wanted. He wouldn’t have been satisfied with your dowry; he would have had Lucca murdered for the entire holding.”
Isabella let her breath out slowly. “I didn’t think of that. Of course he would have. He probably would have had me murdered, too, so he could wed another who would bring him more wealth.”
“I suspect you are correct. He would allow a decent length of time to go by first, of course. Either that or he would have locked you up for his convenience and told the world you had died. It isn’t unheard of.”
The idea chilled her. The casual, matter-of-fact way he said it chilled her. Isabella had always had the protection of her status, her birthright, name, and property. Her family watched over her protectively. She had heard of the brutality a woman could suffer at the hands of an unprincipled man, but she had never thought overmuch about it.
When they arrived at her bedchamber, the room was warm with the glowing embers of the fire. Isabella was all business as she located the salve, but her stomach was churning at Nicolai’s words. She knew nothing of the don. He was younger than she had thought and much more handsome than she ever could have imagined. He possessed a charisma and charm she found enthralling. His voice and eyes mesmerized her. His sexual magnetism was almost more than she could resist.
“I frightened you, cara, with my thoughtless words. I can assure you, I do not intend to lock you in a dungeon while I marry other unsuspecting women for their fortunes. One wife is enough for me. Especially when she is unpredictable and skulks around my palazzo, hunting for my treasures.”
“It is said you meet with many men, yet they do not see you.”
He caught her arm, pulling her close to him. “Who told you such a thing?” Golden eyes blazed at her, tiny flames burning brightly in warning.
Isabella rolled her eyes expressively, not in the least intimidated. “It is common knowledge. Many gossip absurdly both in and outside this valley. But when I had an audience with you, you stayed mostly in the shadows.” She laughed softly. “Skulking. I believe you were skulking in the shadows.”
His harsh expression softened, and his eyes laughed at her teasing. Their voices were soft in the night. As if by mutual agreement neither wanted to awaken something from slumber that was better left alone. As it was, they were in their own world, locked together by the darkness and something intangible they shared. “I may have been skulking, for want of a better word. I love the night. Even as a child I felt I owned it.” His eyes burned over her, amber flames gleaming brightly. “The night belongs to me, cara. I see what others do not. It holds a beauty and a fascination and, most importantly, a freedom I cannot have in daylight hours. I am most comfortable at night.”
He was telling her something important, yet she was unable to grasp the meaning behind his words. Fleetingly remembering Sarina’s calling him nocturnal, Isabella looked up at the perfection of his masculine features. “You are unnaturally handsome,” she observed critically, without guile, “yet you seem not to know it. Why do you keep so much to yourself? Is it merely the way of your castello?” She enjoyed his company immensely and hoped he would continue to be a companion to her.
Nicolai hesitated, his first moment of indecision. He raked a hand through his hair, his body jerking as he lifted his arm. “You must meet the other women and begin to learn what is necessary to run the palazzo. I do not want a wife in name only. I expect you to take an active interest in your home and its people.”
“I helped run mio padre’s holdings, so I certainly will have no problem learning about this one.” It was ten times larger than anything she had ever seen, but Sarina had already befriended her, and Isabella was certain the woman would help. It seemed a daunting task, but Isabella liked challenges, and she had confidence in her own abilities. She lifted her chin as she touched the edge of his tunic. “I was hoping we could share some meals together.” Very gently she lifted his shirt to reveal the claw marks where the lion had raked his skin. “Hold this.” She caught his wrist and pressed his palm against his shirt to keep it in place and away from the lacerations.
Nicolai watched her intently, the pupils of his eyes so pale they were luminous in the darkness. Her fingers brushed his skin gently, soothingly, lingering just a bit too long. His entire body clenched and tightened and ached with need. His breath caught in his throat, and his blood heated to a molten pool. He tore his gaze from her face, from her tender expression. The way she looked at him was almost too much to bear. His teeth snapped together in frustration, and a low growl escaped. “I should have insisted on sending you away.”
Her gaze jumped to his face. “Why?” The question was stark. Innocent. Far too trusting.
It drove him mad. “Because I want to lay you down on the bed, the floor, anywhere at all, and make you my own.” The words escaped before he could stop them, before he could take them back. He didn’t know if he wanted to shock her or frighten her or warn her.
“Oh.” The single word slipped out softly.
She didn’t sound shocked or frightened. She sounded pleased. He saw the smile Isabella tried to hide.
She kept her gaze glued to the lacerations on his ribs, which matched those on the left side of his face. “How did you get these marks?”
Nicolai hesitated again, then sighed softly as he relaxed. “I was tussling with one of the lions, and I was a little slow.” She was turning him inside out, and he wasn’t prepared for the intensity of his emotions. Where before he had wanted her to know everything, now he merely wanted her to want him more than life.
He was lying. Isabella knew it. She glanced up at his set face. It was the first time he had told her an outright lie. His lashes were long and dark and feathery, completely at odds with his gleaming eyes, burning with such fierce intensity. She was gentle as she smeared the salve along the lacerations. “Signor DeMarco, I do not mind silence, but I object to untruths. I would ask that you would consider my request that if we’re to be wed—”
“We are to be wed, Isabella.” It was a command, uttered with complete authority.
“If that is so, signore, then I would ask that you refrain from speaking if you are inclined to tell me a falsehood. I want you to promise me that you will at least give consideration to my request.”
“I will tell you this much truth, Isabella,” he said softly. The air around them stilled, gathering powerful charge. Danger vibrated between them. “The one you should fear the most is standing before you. That is truth, the absolute truth. Heed my warning, cara. Never trust me, not for a single moment, if you value your life.”
Isabella was afraid to move. Afraid to speak. He believed every word he had uttered to her. There was menace in his voice. And sorrow. And regret. But more than those things, there was the ring of truth.